


Elegantly Wasted

by orphan_account



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Fake Marriage, Friends to Lovers, Letters, Storybrooke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 17:37:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12194580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A chance encounter with a charming bartender leaves Emma Swan both lovestruck... and mortified.(Originally posted on fanfiction.net)





	1. Chapter 1

Emma could feel her feet swelling through her socks - she needed a strong drink and something to sit on, and she needed them fast. Work had been exhausting, it was a Saturday, so she got the most drunks breaking into libraries she'd ever had. Storybrooke's Main Street didn't exactly offer many bars, just a diner and the odd cafe. So, Emma took a turn off Main Street, and found herself in a small, narrow street. She didn't recognise it, she'd possibly never been down it before. It was full of life, one bar in particular looking vibrant and busy. It had a bright sign, lit up in vintage lightbulbs, reading Killian's. Emma shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly - she had no reason not to go and get pissed tonight, and the bar looked fun enough.

An indie song she wasn't familiar with trickled into her ears as she stepped inside, accompanied by the clinking of glasses. This place didn't disappoint, Storybrooke had never seen anything like it. Large, rustic pipes ran across the ceiling, fully exposed between the array of different sized bulbs and pendant lamps. She saw an empty seat at the bar, and ran over to grab it. The place was packed, so she was shocked she even got a seat.

Emma admired the posters on the wall, one in particular was from 1969, it was a Rolling Stones free concert.

"You like them too?" A husky voice startled Emma, making her jump.

She turned round, seeing the bartender smirking at her wildly. She felt the heat rise up her cheeks like fucking _Jesus_ rising from the dead. He was rather attractive, a tall man with messy black hair that she really wanted to run her hand through, glimmering blue eyes and complimentary scruff. He wore suspenders over his white shirt, reminding her of a stereotypical hipster.

"Yeah..." Emma gingerly responded, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear.

She read his name badge - Killian.

"So... I'm guessing you own this place?" Emma raised an eyebrow at the bartender.

"Aye." He chuckled, his (British? No, Irish?) accent smooth and soft above the layers of conversation in the room.

"Well, Killian, I need a drink." Emma huffed, putting her hands down in front of her.

"That, I can provide, mi'lady." He winked, making her internally cringe. "What can I get you?"

Killian handed her a menu, and Emma scanned it intently. It was quirkier than the damn place, some of the drinks served in fucking watering cans.

I'll have a G&T in a watering can, please." She said, bemused still by the fact that it was served in a watering can.  A damn watering can.

"Coming right up, love." He nodded, gathering what he needed and doing some fancy ass decoration on the watering can.

"Is it even safe to drink out of one of those?" Emma smirked, as he handed her the drink.

"Perfectly safe, love." He laughed. The way he was calling her love produced a strange feeling in her stomach. "Anyway, what's a beautiful girl like you doing in a bar alone?" He leaned over, matching her curious stare with an adoring one.  

"Do you hit on all of your customers?" She scoffed, taking a sip of her drink. It was actually really good.

"Nope." He shook his head, smiling wickedly.

"Well... Shouldn't you go and serve other people?" She tried desperately not to meet his eyes, gesturing to people waiting at the other end of the bar.

"That's what I pay people for." He smirked, not moving from his very frustrating position in front of her.

She rolled her eyes. "Wait - shit - how much was the drink?"

"On the house, darling." He winked.

"Can you stop it with the pet names?" Emma finally looked up to face him, her whole body freezing when she did.

"Well, I have nothing else to call you..."

"Emma. My name is Emma." She said dumbly, still staring into his eyes.

Three drinks later, Emma could feel her life story falling out of her mouth to Killian. He sat patiently and listened, as she told him how she'd lived in Storybrooke for her recent life with her parents. She worked as Sheriff, sharing the job with her father. Killian laughed, saying "I'm rather suprised we haven't met yet, then."

He told her how he'd wanted his own bar for a long time, his appreciation for music and good drinks merging into the bar she sat in.

Emma had pretty much told him everything about her (including tragic, drunken recounts of her deadbeat exes) when Killian suggested that she go home. Emma lived about a ten minute's walk away, but she could barely move without stumbling. The bar was winding down, people disappearing into the night to move on to the next one, when he offered to walk her home.

He told his colleague, Robin, that he was walking her home, and Robin gave him a suggestive wink but he shook his head profusely - "I would never take advantage of a lady, mate."

"Come on, love, nearly there." Killian said gently - Emma had mumbled her address to him when she was partially sober.

"Mhm." Emma nodded sleepily, leaning her head on Killian's shoulder.

"I'm cold." She mumbled, to which Killian instantly slipped off his jacket and put it round her. "F-Thank you."

"It's alright, love, is this it?" He pointed at the large house, and Emma nodded.

"My humble abode!" She slurred, traipsing up the steps and swinging her arms in the air.

"You live here by yourself?" Killian said, shocked.

"Yeah... Do you want to come in?" She tugged at his collar, her mind thinking incredibly sinful things about him. _Shit_.  He was currently in between her splayed thighs and - 

_Shut up, you dumbass._

"Emma, love, you're drunk, you need to go to bed." He shook his head, helping her turn the key in the door as she stabbed at it blindly.

Killian steadied her hand, and Emma turned to face him, breathless. Her stupid crush on this man had only amplified with her intoxication.

"With you..." She poked his chest, the words stumbling off her tongue. "Hmm, that sounds nice."

"Emma..."

"Shush, and come inside." She sloppily pressed a finger to his lips.

"Love, I refuse to take advantage of you..."

But she had already pulled him inside, tugging desperately at his collar.

"Let's get you to bed." He sighed, scooping her up bridal style.

"Killian!" She squealed, wriggling about.

"Which way is your bedroom, love?" He asked her softly, to which she pointed upstairs.

He carried her up, his strong arms wrapped around her body securely.

"My knight in shining armour..." Emma mumbled in his arms.

"That's me, love." He chuckled, finding her bedroom and kicking open the door.

He laid her down on her bed gently, and grabbed a pen from her bedside table, scribbling something down.

"Goodnight, love." He whispered, pulling the duvet over her.

"Don't go." She whined childishly, throwing her arms in the air.

"I have to, darling. Sleep well." He gave her a soft chuckle, tucking her arms under the blanket, waiting patiently until the beautiful woman drifted off. He briefly admired the soft freckles sprinkled on her cheeks, and her now closed green eyes that he remembered so vividly. She was so striking and intriguing to him, a wonder of some sort. But Killian shook the thought away, and left her bedside with a sigh.


	2. Chapter 2

Shit.

Emma threw her head into the pillow with a groan - _how much had she drank last night?_ Her head pounded into the fabric, and she wanted nothing more than to die right there. She slowly pulled the pillow away from her face, seeing a glass of water, and Advil and a piece of paper on her bedside table. She grabbed the note, and with it came back (some of) the memories of last night. 

 

_Emma, When you see this note I'm sure you'll be needing a drink and some Advil, so there’s some eagerly waiting to cure your (what I assume is a) bloody awful hangover. I hope you're alright, you had a few too many drinks last night which I fully take the blame for. I've written my number at the bottom of this page, but if you don't call me I fully understand. Rest well, love. Sincerest apologies, - Killian._

 

Emma felt her cheeks redden, and let out a muffled scream into her pillow. She'd acted so ridiculously last night, and this man still wanted to speak to her? Could he not have been a total prick so she had a reason to turn him down? She popped the Advil in her mouth and gulped down the water, feeling how her dry throat was as she opened her mouth. She really had gone overboard. Emma grabbed her phone, and sleepily typed the man's number in.

 

"Hello?" The deep voice rasped, making Emma's stomach knot. She couldn't recall his accent, so it felt brand new to her. The Irish edge to his tone made her knees weak.

“Uh - hi - is this Killian?" One thing Emma knew for a fact was that it was the elusive Killian on the other end of the phone, but she most certainly didn't know what to say to the man whose face she couldn't recall.

"It is, is that you, Emma?" He replied softly.

"Uh - yeah, thanks for.. Well, everything." She cringed, squeezing her eyes shut as some of her embarrassing dialogue from last night came to mind. She could remember some incredibly dirty talk she'd used on him, and the heat began creeping up her cheeks again. Emma decided not to tell him that she couldn't remember his face, not yet anyway. She feared it would upset him, or, at least, push him away.

“Of course, love. I didn't think you'd call." He said genuinely, making Emma's heart ache a little.

"Well, here I am. Well, I'm not _here_ here as in next to you, but-" Emma trailed off, her mind racing. A hectic mumble of _'well, you know what I mean' and 'I'm not here here, and you're there, so I guess I'm not here-'_ s fell out of her mouth subsequently - she was never good at getting to the point.

"You could be." Killian piped up, his voice rather uneasy, making Emma freeze. Had something happened last night that she couldn't remember? She decided it would be safe to assume no, but this man seemed to like her.

"I... I guess I could. But... Not yet?" She rubbed her forehead frantically, as if a memory of him would appear magically, but it did the opposite. Emma didn't want to meet him just yet, because she could guarantee she'd make a show of herself and neither of them wanted that.

“As you wish, love." He replied softly, but she could sense a flicker of melancholy in his tone.

“What about last night-" She cringed, remembering some more of her drunken antics but his face remained a distinct blur. She couldn't remember what he looked like, and for that, she was utterly _mortified_.

"You were trying to have a good time, love, to forget your worries. I understand that feeling much more than I should. I've had my fair share of perpetual drinking myself into oblivions." Killian said sympathetically, he clearly had a past with a plethora of demons - just like any normal human being - but he was so intriguing to Emma. She'd never felt quite so compelled to a perfect stranger. She smiled, and quickly realised that he couldn't see her, so her face awkwardly straightened as if someone was watching her with second hand embarrassment.

"Thanks for understanding, well, everything." Emma was incredibly overwhelmed by his patience and reassuring nature - and she got all of this from one damn phone call. His flowery language and soft voice had immediately wooed her, even if she couldn't remember him. A wide smile grew on Killian's face, but he realised that she couldn't see him, so his face straightened.

"That's quite alright, love. Well, I'll leave your lovely self to recover-"

"Wait." She cut Killian off hastily. "Just because I'm not ready to meet you... Again, it doesn't meet that we can't speak." Her words were slow, her thoughts forming the sentence with the occasional stutter.

"So, you're not rejecting me?" He chuckled. _Of course she wasn't._ But she couldn't remember him if her life depended on it - she _was_ certain he could remember her, though.

“I'll tell you what. Come up with a novel method of communication for us, and I'll give you a shot." She laughed, mentally high-fiving herself at her witty response. "Is that a challenge?" His tone became more suggestive and daring. "Because I love a challenge, darling."

_"You're on."_


End file.
